


1-800-SUPPORT

by watanuki_sama



Series: Shards Of Quantum Glass [10]
Category: Common Law (TV)
Genre: F/M, I know very little about computers, I'm so sorry, Office Worker AU, Pranks, and even less about IT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 16:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18138170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watanuki_sama/pseuds/watanuki_sama
Summary: Some days, Kendall really hates her job.





	1-800-SUPPORT

**Author's Note:**

> Wesvis is my ship forever and always, but I do think Kendall/Wes was kind of cute so this little ficlet came about.
> 
>  
> 
> PROMPT: Office

_“Hello, IT. Have you tried turning it off and on again?”_  
_—Roy Trenneman (the IT Crowd, 1.01 Yesterday's Jam)_

\---

Some days, Kendall really hates her job.

“It sounds like you have a virus, ma’am.” The woman on the other end of the phone starts ranting, and Kendall pinches the bridge of her nose. “No, ma’am, not that kind of virus. A _computer_ virus. A virus _on your computer_. That’s why it’s running so poorly.”

The voice on the phone gets more indignant, and Kendall closes her eyes and takes deep breaths. “I don’t—no, ma’am, I doubt the government put it there. That isn’t—ma’am. Ma’am. How about I send one of our technicians up there to help, alright? Good, he’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She hangs up, and allows her head to thunk onto her desk, groaning pitifully.

Ellen leans around the wall separating their cubicles, grinning widely. “Rough call?”

Kendall turns her head just enough to glare at her coworker. “Like you don’t know. You heard every word.”

Ellen’s grin, if possible, gets wider. “I did. Even just hearing your half of the conversation was pure gold.”

Kendall thumps her head on the desk again. “I hate this job.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

“Because I need the money,” Kendall sighs, glaring balefully at the phone. “Stupid bills.”

Ellen snorts. “Yeah, well, when you eventually run off and make your own company, remember how much this job sucks and take me with you, alright?”

“It’s a deal,” Kendall laughs. The mirth is cut short when her phone jangles impatiently. Sighing, she sits up, gathering her composure before she answers.

“IT department, this is Kendall. How may I help you?” she says brightly.

Or she tries to. She barely gets the first sentence out before an outraged voice shouts in her ear, “ _Japanese!_ Everything’s in _Japanese!”_

Kendall actually smiles upon hearing the shouting. “One moment, please,” she chirps, though she doubts he hears her over his ranting. She puts him on hold, leaning around the cubicle wall. “Ellen, your guy’s on line two.”

The other woman’s eyes light up. “Travis?” Kendall nods, and Ellen sits up, adjusting her blouse like Travis is actually coming down here to rant. Kendall rolls her eyes and retreats back to her side of the cubicle wall as Ellen answers the call.

Kendall sits up and waits. _Five…four…three…two…one._

Her phone rings.

“IT department, this is Kendall. How may I help you?”

The voice on the other end of the line sighs. “Hi, Kendall. It’s Wes. Sorry to bother you.”

She smiles. “It’s not a problem. What’s going on?” She glances in Ellen’s direction. “Japanese?”

Wes scoffs. “Travis changed my phone message to something absurd, so I changed his computer’s language settings.”

“I see.” It really isn’t professional to laugh, but Kendall can’t help chuckling. “Is that why you called? Your phone message?”

“No, I fixed that,” Wes dismisses. “But my computer is running a bit slow, so I’m worried I might have a virus.”

Two computer viruses in one day, lucky her. This one, though, she plans to take care of herself. “I’ll be right up.”

“Thanks, Kendall.” He hangs up, and Kendall follows suit with a smile.

Some days aren’t so bad after all.

\---

Wes Mitchell and Travis Marks are the top two sales associates in the company. Or, they would be, if they didn’t get in each other’s way so often.

Once upon a time, back when they worked in separate departments, Marks and Mitchell were the top sellers in their respective domains. They were so successful, they got promoted to the same department, where, within six weeks, they worked together to land the massive account of the Gentleman Caller, which sounds like some sort of brothel but actually sells men’s clothing or something. It was _huge_.

Since then, they haven’t landed another big sale, because they get in each other’s way more often than they work together. They’re competitive, is the problem, and they’re willing to do whatever it takes to beat the other man. They don’t outright _sabotage_ each other, but there’s a lot of fighting about customers and inventory and poaching cold calls. Rumors of their antics have even trickled all the way down to the IT department.

And that’s just professionally. They’re constantly playing tricks and pranks on one another whenever they have a chance. The prank war of ’09 is legendary, and resulted in four new company rules that went out in a strongly-worded memo.

Like said. They _could_ be the best, if they just left each other alone.

\---

“There you go.” Kendall sits back, waving a grandiose hand at the desktop. “There was a small virus, but it didn’t do any harm. I cleared it all out, so you’re good to go.”

Wes, leaning against the office wall, gives her an embarrassed smile. “Thanks, Kendall. Sorry about this.”

She returns the smile. “It’s not a problem. Just doing my job, you know.”

He shakes his head. “You’re doing more than your fair share, putting up with the fallout from _his_ antics.” He jerks his head towards the office’s other occupant.

“Hey!” Travis swivels around to scowl at Wes. “I resent that!”

“Shut up,” Wes grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“You shut up, you bastard.” Travis turns back to his computer and starts typing furiously, and Kendall can hear the word, “Japanese!” repeated under his breath several times, with varying levels of indignation.

Wes covers his face with his hand. “I am _so_ sorry about this.”

“It’s really not a problem,” she assures him. “But you really should watch what sites you go to. And don’t trust anyone offering items for real money, they’re just trolls.”

Wes drops his hand and stares at her. “Items? For what?”

“Well, you know.” She frowns a little. “For _Apocalypse Moon_.”

His confusion clears up in an instant, and he stalks across the room to whack the back of Travis’s head. “Dammit, stop using my computer for your stupid game!”

Travis yelps, rubbing the back of his head sulkily. “ _Apocalypse Moon_ is an awesome game, okay, I’ve met more people in more countries than you’ll ever _dream_ of visiting. It’s giving me _culture_.”

“It’s a _video game_ ,” Wes retorts, rolling his eyes. “And you’d better not be using my credit card info again—”

Kendall quietly slips away while they’re distracted, hearing them bicker all the way to the elevator. She quells the minor disappointment in her chest; she’d been hoping Wes was the one who played _Apocalypse Moon_. Then they’d have something in common.

The elevator doors shut, cutting off the argument, and Kendall sighs as she descends.

\---

The first time Kendall met Wes was in the middle of yet another prank war. Hostilities had escalated, and they had somehow managed to crash each other’s computers. Kendall, as the newest hire, and Ellen, who’d been low man on the totem pole until Kendall arrived, were dispatched to repair the problem.

In the hour and a half it took to get everything back up and running, Kendall and Ellen were witness to what all the rumors called ‘old married bickering’. Wes and Travis fought like they hated each other, at one point going so far as to throw office supplies at each other, but they sat with their feet on the wheels of each other’s chairs and didn’t pull away.

Ellen was infatuated by Travis’s smooth smiles and harmless flirtation, but Kendall was taken in by Wes’s quiet poise and gentle politeness (when it was aimed at her; Wes was just as sharp and loud as Travis when they were fighting). Wes had a different sort of charm.

She and Ellen were talking about it later when their supervisor walked by. He stopped behind them, listened for a second, then asked, slightly incredulously, “You two _like_ Mitchell and Marks?”

Kendall was a little worried she’d get in trouble for the gossip (which was stupid, everyone gossiped), but she nodded, and saw Ellen do the same.

But all he said was, “Good. Then you two can deal with them.”

Kendall didn’t understand why he said that like it was a punishment.

Then the calls started.

\---

“He changed my mouse pointer to a pile of poop,” Wes says grimly, and Kendall covers her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. “And when I click, my computer makes this ridiculous farting noise.”

Kendall is trembling from the effort not to laugh. “Why?” she asks, almost choking on the word as the giggles try to escape.

“Because he’s a twelve-year-old boy trapped in a man’s body? I don’t know.”

She can hear Ellen next to her, talking to Travis as she manages the problem. (They always call at the same time, probably because they always fight and retaliate and back again.) Slowly, she says, “You must have done _something_.”

Wes sighs, breath gusting along the phone line. “I _may_ have set it so every non-work-related website he visits will redirect to our company’s code of conduct page. _May_ have. No one can prove a thing.”

Kendall gives in; she drops her head and shakes with laughter. It’s five minutes before she can calm down enough to fix his problem.

\---

They call at least once a week, sometimes more. They’re two very smart men with the personalities of preteens. It’s amazing the sort of hijinks they get into, and how often. Kendall can understand why no one else wants to deal with them.

What she doesn’t understand is why they keep calling IT. They clearly have the computer skills to implement their pranks, so they should, in theory, also have the skills to undo the damage. So why do they keep calling?

Not that she’s complaining or anything. It’s just curious.

\---

There’s an explosion of cellophane on her desk when she comes in. Kendall blinks, approaching slowly like it’s a bomb.

It’s not a bomb. It is a pastel green basket, the kind sold for Easter, filled with things and covered in pale yellow cellophane.

Utterly baffled, Kendall sits, picking up the card. It’s a generic greeting card, flowers on the front and silver letters that say, ‘Thank you.’ She opens it gingerly, almost afraid of what she’s going to find.

She shouldn’t be worried.

_You have been invaluable,_ a neat, prim hand writes inside. _Thank you for putting up with us an entire year without running off screaming._

It’s signed _Wes & Travis._

Kendall chuckles, looking at the gift basket. Has it really been an entire year? It feels…well, some days it feels longer, some shorter. It’s mostly just been an adventure.

She unties the multicolored bow, pulling away the cellophane to the goodies beneath. There’s a paired set of body wash and lotion, some decorative soaps shaped like seashells. A _really_ nice box of chocolates, and designer marshmallows. (Kendall didn’t even know they _made_ designer marshmallows). And there’s three fifteen dollar gift cards to various restaurants tucked in the front.

This is a hundred-dollar gift basket. Kendall’s done a lot, but she’s certain she hasn’t done anything worth a hundred-dollar gift basket. Holy _shit_.

The phone rings. Kendall jumps a little, too stunned to say anything but, “What?”

“Did you get the gift basket?”

Wes’s voice pulls her out of her stupor. “Yes, I did, thank you.” She picks up the box of marshmallows, looking at the ingredients. “It’s awfully generous.”

“It was the least I could do.” Kendall rather doubts that. He sounds a little sheepish when he says, “I know we’re not the easiest to deal with. Some might call us a pain…”

Ah, so he _does_ realize. Kendall hadn’t been entirely certain. But then, Wes does seem the more rational of the pair.

Kendall smirks, leaning back. “Actually, it’s been kind of entertaining. You two prove the rumors true and more.”

“What rumors?”

“Now that would be telling.” She sets down the marshmallows and runs her fingernail on the gilt letters of the card. “Thank you for this.”

“No, thank _you_.” He smiles; she can hear it in his voice. “We’ll try not to bother you too much today. It is our anniversary, of sorts.”

“That just means Travis is probably planning something spectacular,” she jokes.

“Probably.” His laugh is warm and smooth, and Kendall’s ear tingles pleasantly. “Have a good day, Kendall.”

“You too,” she smiles when she hangs up, picking up the card again.

Ellen arrives and stops dead, staring at her desk. There’s a crinkle of cellophane, and a puzzled, “What the hell?” and Kendall laughs.

\---

Kendall does not have a crush on Wes, because crush is so high school and Kendall is ten years graduated from that crap.

She _is_ interested in Wes. She thinks he’s cute, in a been-kicked-around-by-life-a-few-times way, and she’s not ashamed to admit she likes the cut of his suit. He’s funny, and sarcastic, but he’s also professional and polite. Kendall would _definitely_ like to get to know him better.

She’s just not bold enough to ask outright. He doesn’t wear a wedding ring, but he also hasn’t responded to any of the signals she’s sent out.

“You should totally make a move,” Ellen says, bold and unhesitating as always. “Ask him out. It’s the twenty-first century, you don’t have to wait for him to ask you anymore.”

Kendall bites her lip. “I don’t know. What if he says no?”

“Then you stop fixing his computer and avoid him if you go to his floor. But what if he says _yes?”_ Ellen grins suggestively. “What’s the harm in asking?”

“I don’t know about that…”

“How ‘bout this.” Ellen leans forward with a grin. “The next time we see them, you ask Wes out, and I’ll ask Travis out. Whadaya say?”

Kendall starts to say no. But then she thinks about it, and Ellen is right. What harm is there in asking?

She lets out a breath and nods. “It’s a deal.”

\---

The memo comes in the middle of the day, with a header that says, “Mitchell and Marks do it again!” Curious, she clicks it open instead of deleting it automatically the way she does with most memos.

It’s nothing major. A picture of the two men standing companionably next to each other, and a small paragraph talking about a new account for Sunspot Inc, an energy company that’s grown big the last few years.

“I thought our guys were pretty quiet lately,” Ellen says, leaning against the back of Kendall’s chair. “I guess they were working on this.”

Kendall chuckles. “You know, if they worked together more often instead of fighting all the time, they’d probably take over.”

“Thank god it hasn’t come to that,” Ellen laughs. She heads to her own desk. “Do you think a gift basket is a suitable ‘congratulations’ gift?”

Kendall snorts and scrolls back up to the top of the email. They look good together, similar expressions of triumph on their faces, and Ellen’s probably right—if they worked together, they could get to the top in no time.

But then there’d be no more prank wars and calls to IT, and that’d just be a shame.

\---

The email says, “You’re invited!” and there’s a date and a time for a small celebration for the Sunspot Inc. acquisition.

Kendall can understand why there’s a party. The company likes to celebrate these sorts of big business deals.

She has no idea why _she’s_ been invited.

“Hey, Ellen.” Kendall leans around the cubicle wall with a frown. “Did you get an invitation too?”

“Yeah.” Ellen is staring at her own screen, studying the invite. “I don’t know why. But hey, free party. I’m down with that.” She glances at Kendall. “You going?”

“I don’t know.” Kendall shrugs, retreating back to her desk. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“You’re just afraid of our deal,” Ellen teases.

“Oh, sure, that’s it,” Kendall snorts, rolling her eyes. She studies the invitation again, looking for any clue why she, in particular, was invited. She even scrolls up the header, but there’s nothing new there. 

Wes was the one who sent the email, but she doesn’t know why.

\---

“Now remember our deal,” Ellen says sternly. “I’ll ask Travis out, you ask Wes out.”

Kendall grimaces, watching the elevator numbers go up. “I regret that deal.”

“Don’t know why.” Ellen grins, checking her hair in the polished wall of the elevator. “It’s a damn good deal. Not that it matters if you go there. _I’m_ definitely taking the plunge. But think about what you’re missing by holding back.” The doors ding open, and she sweeps out. “I don’t plan on missing _anything_.”

Kendall follows more slowly, gripping her gift.

It’s a generic sort of office party, with catered sandwiches and fruit salad and about three different types of pasta dishes. And a cake, of course, store bought with the Sunspot Inc. logo on top.

It’s clear that if Kendall and Ellen have no idea why they’re here, no one else does either. They get a few puzzled greetings from people they know (as in, people whose computers they’ve worked on maybe twice) and stares of blank incomprehension from everyone else.

The mystery doesn’t clear up until they venture further into the party and find the guests of honor talking to an older, grey-haired gentleman.

Travis spots them over his boss’s shoulder, and his face brightens. “Our support girls! I’m glad you made it!”

The two women share a look. “Support girls?”

“Well, yeah!” Travis wiggles his eyebrows. “ ‘cuz you’re so supporting, right?”

Wes reaches up and whacks the back of his head. “Don’t be crude. And don’t listen to him,” he tells them, offering a small smile. “Rude and annoying is his default state.”

Kendall and Ellen pass amused glances each other’s way. Then Ellen, ever the more blunt of the two, asks, “Sorry, but why are we here?”

Wes looks mildly surprised. “Well, because we wouldn’t have gotten Sunspot if it weren’t for you two.”

Kendall is certain she didn’t do anything of the sort.

“You see,” Travis explains, “thanks to your timely assistance and your amused tolerance for our antics, we worked through some of our pranking tendencies, which meant we could focus on actually working together.”

“So thanks to you, in part, we got Sunspot,” Wes finishes. Travis gives him a dirty look like he stole the best part of the speech, but Wes merely smiles warmly at Kendall. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

\---

“This is for you,” Kendall says a little while later. She holds out her hands.

Wes takes the pastel green gift basket with no end of amusement. “Why, this looks familiar.”

“I’m am a master at reusing and regifting,” Kendall chirps, which makes Wes laugh. Kendall really kind of likes his laugh. She wants to hear it more often, and talk to him, and just spend time with him.

_Think about what you’re missing by holding back,_ Ellen’s voice in her head advises. _I don’t plan on missing anything._

Kendall glances around the room and spots Ellen in a corner by the food, talking to Travis with their heads bowed together and their fingers touching on the table.

Emboldened by her friend’s determination, Kendall inhales deeply and turns to Wes. “Do you want to go out sometime?” she asks, barreling on with, “Like, on a date, sort of thing. Maybe?”

Wes’s face goes through a couple of different emotions, finally settling on awkward. “Um…”

Her shoulders drop. “You’re seeing someone already, aren’t you?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” His thumb rubs against his run finger, like he’d be twisting a ring if it were there. “It was, um, divorce. Not recent, but…”

“Right.” Kendall has been through a couple of breakups like that. “I totally understand. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

She turns away, disappointment and embarrassment curdling hot in her breast. God, how awful, rejection sucks and she just wants to go back to her office and curl up in her chair.

“Hey, Kendall…”

She pauses, turns, embers of hope fluttering in her chest. “Yeah?”

Wes is looking down at his hands, and there’s a touch of color on his cheeks. He twists his hands together. “Maybe not a _date_ , so much, but…maybe we could get coffee sometime?”

She smiles, slowly. “Yeah. Coffee would be great.”

It’s not quite what she wanted, but this works too.

Some days Kendall hates her job. But some days she really, really loves it.


End file.
